


Silver Lining

by lossie



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Modern Middle Earth, Romance, This story has a mind and will of its own, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 16:30:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3495200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lossie/pseuds/lossie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tauriel is a young child psychologist whose life is a complete mess. Thranduil is a single parent who battles every day with the prospect of losing the only person that matters to him. As their paths cross and entwine, they may just discover a beginning in their heartbreaks and a future in their downfalls. Thranduil/Tauriel, Modern AU, three-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Lining

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm trying my hand at something different this time. Not too different (it's angsty as hell), but still different enough ;)  
> I absolutely love me some Modern AU. There is just something so very satisfying about taking characters that you love and portraying them in the reality of our crazy world. I don't write or read much of those, since they aren't too popular (especially in the Hobbit fandom), but I thought I could give it at try and see where it goes. And boy, does it go places!
> 
> "Silver Lining" is a three-shot (at least that's the length I'm aiming for, but it can end up getting longer) and it's almost finished, so it shouldn't take long for me to complete it. Updates should appear quite often. I imagine that the next one will be published at the beginning of next week :)
> 
> My inspiration for this story (if anyone is interested) are three very lovely songs – Lykke Li's "Sleeping Alone", Hozier's "Take Me To Church" and Josh Groban's "Your Hideaway".
> 
> Anyway! Before you start reading, I would like to say that this story is an experiment of sorts – to try and see how far can I take Thranduil and Tauriel without butchering their personalities – so don't judge me too harshly.
> 
> For those who are waiting for my other stories: I will get there, but I have a hard time writing the old stuff when I have so many new ideas popping out like daisies. That being said, I do believe I will be publishing some much awaited updates soon, so don't worry.
> 
> And now enjoy the madness ahead and please, don't forget to comment/review!

“ _Some last, some die_  
_Some love wait till its time,_  
 _If you save your heart for mine_  
 _We'll meet again, we'll meet again_ ”  
-Lykke Li, “Sleeping alone”

* * *

 

  
The snow has been falling ceaselessly since early morning. White, soft flakes spin around in the air, only to slop onto the ground a moment later, making yet another drift of snow. Chilly wind is blowing through passersby’s hair, sending the tails of their thick coats flying and lashing at their flushed, happy faces. The streets have been decked with colourful garlands, bunches of conifer's twigs and mistletoe. The shop windows are full of reindeers, St. Clauses in their sleighs full of gifts, and pine trees, which are decorated with colourful Christmas baubles, twinkling lights, and gleaming chains in various shades of gold and silver. The beautiful smell of spices and the laughter of people are hovering all around and portend the joyful ambiance of quickly approaching Christmas Eve.  
  
Tauriel swaddles herself tighter in her coat, stepping in place in a hilarious variation of a potty dance, as she gazes through the fogged over windows into the bakery rather impatiently. She is waiting for her friend, Elrond Peredhil, to finally show up in her line of sight. He has been MIA for the last half an hour, when he went inside to buy some gingerbread cookies for his children. Luck is hardly on her side though, since there is no trace of the man in the crowd that is threatening to make the little store burst at the seams.  
  
”It’s nothing to be worried about... It's kind of normal two days before Christmas,” she muses quietly to herself and then sighs, looking around and smiling gently at the random people who, to her delight, usually smile back. Christmas spirit is apparently not lost on everyone, though it is obvious that there are many people in Dale guilty of postponing everything till the last moment. Such is the charm of the Yuletide festivities in the busy modern world.  
  
She sighs heavily, her hot breath clearly visible in the cold air.  
  
The year that is just coming to an end hasn’t been the best. Setting aside her painful breakup with Kili that came as a complete surprise to all but Tauriel herself, there are other things that she wishes would have turned out differently.  
  
She has switched jobs to avoid Kili and his insane family, which had an undesirable effect of making the already tense atmosphere between them even more unpleasant. They have known each other since childhood and she very much considered his relatives to be hers as well, but after their breakup every single meeting with any given member of his family, which happen quite often, is as obtrusive as it can possibly get. Usually she isn’t one to ferret in any social situations, no matter how unbearable they are prone to become, but the heavy silence that seems to be a permanent fixture during aforementioned meetings, no matter how brief they might be, is putting even her somewhat legendary high spirits to the test.  
  
To top it all one of her little patients died barely three weeks ago and the condition of another one is spiralling completely out of control.  
  
No family, no social life, barely any friends, one recent break up, one recent death, and one patient in a critical condition.  
  
Tauriel cringes inwardly.  
  
Her life is a complete, utter mess.  
  
This month has been particularly hellish, to put it mildly, and it doesn’t look like the next one is going to be any better.  
  
Sometimes she wonders if Kili wasn’t right. Maybe she puts too much of herself, too much energy into her job? Maybe it’s the reason why it has been so hard for her to smile in the last couple of weeks? Maybe she should really slow down a little and take a break?  
  
A snort of bemusement escapes her at the mere idea.  
  
She would have probably gone crazy without her job. Even if every passing day and every new patient she treats bring with them an avalanche of new sorrows to handle, she loves it too much to let it go. It has cost her a four-year long relationship, countless friendships, and many sleepless nights, and yet there is no way she can simply abandon it.  
  
Sometimes it seems like it is some sort of addiction that she cannot overcome. Or maybe she is simply a masochist.  
  
“Sweet victory,” Elrond says, waving an overly decorated red bag in front of Tauriel’s face as he finally steps outside of the bakery. His smile is strained, as if he is forcing himself to maintain some level of cheerfulness despite his actual mood. When he called her two days ago to ask for a meeting, she didn’t know what to expect, but now, as she looks at his exhausted face and into his slightly bloodshot eyes, she realizes that it cannot be anything good.  
  
“Congratulations,” she responds without much enthusiasm, her lips twisting into some semblance of a smile that probably ends up looking more like a grimace. She has no desire to play the game of pretending today. “Should we grab a coffee or would you rather go eat something?”  
  
“Coffee is fine.”  
  
She only nods in response.  
  
They move in the direction of the nearest café that just so happens to be a Starbucks. Tauriel is not particularly fond of their coffee, but she doesn’t think that she has enough energy to go on a coffee hunt right now.  
  
The coffee shop isn’t as busy as she expected, so they manage to get their drinks and find a place to sit within fifteen minutes. A miracle in and on itself, if anyone wants to know her opinion.  
  
She sips her scalding-hot and very sweet Americano carefully as she waits for Elrond to start talking.  
  
He doesn’t seem to be in a hurry at all as he first checks his phone and then takes a look into his appointment book that is overflowing with lose pieces of paper as per usual. When he finally starts adding sugar to his coffee, Tauriel is fairly certain that the drink is lukewarm, if not already cold, but she stops herself from commenting. As an experienced psychologist she knows well that he is trying to postpone the inevitable, but she is not about to force him to speak.  
  
It takes him close to twenty minutes before he even looks at her and another ten or so before he speaks.  
  
“My godson has ALL.” His voice is quiet and calm, but she can sense that it’s only a façade. She has never met his godson, but she heard much about him and from what she did hear, it’s easy to gather that Elrond loves him as if he were his own flesh and blood. She also knows that the boy is his best friend’s only beloved child, which makes the situation only that much more painful.  
  
“I’m sorry to hear that.” And she means it, even if the words sound somewhat empty and cheesy as hell. “How bad is it?”  
  
“The recent CT scan showed tumours in his lungs.”  
  
That doesn’t bode well indeed. This particular type of leukaemia is highly curable, but the presence of tumours shows that the boy’s body is not fighting the disease as well as it should and that the treatments are not really working their magic. It is rare, but it does happen sometimes. Tauriel is aware that the survival rates for ALL with metastasis aren’t high. She has had two patients with similar symptoms over the last few years and both of them died shortly after being diagnosed. Of course she doesn’t tell Elrond about it, because it would hardly serve any purpose. Besides he is a doctor and so he is probably already acutely aware of the gloomy prognosis.  
  
“That must be a hard time for him and his family.”  
  
It’s an automatic response that sounds kind of stupid, but always, without fail gets people to talk. She said this line so many times over the years it’s hard to tell anymore if it’s an honest inquiry from a concern friend or a clever trick of a therapist who wants to know as much as possible without truly asking any questions. Her job and her private life are so conjoined at this point though that it doesn’t make much of a difference. On most days it’s almost impossible to separate the part of her which helps strangers in their time of need for money from the one which is simply compassionate to a fault.  
  
“They are holding up as well as can be expected, I guess,” he says after a moment of silence, idly twirling a white plastic spoon in his still full cup. “But he has changed over the last month or so. Something is bothering him, but he doesn’t want to talk about it with anyone… We don’t really know what to do anymore. I thought that maybe you could…”  
  
“No,” she interrupts him midsentence, already knowing what he is going to say. “I’m sorry, Elrond, but I have just recently lost a patient and I suspect I’m about to lose another one soon.” There is a barely detectable note of panic in Tauriel’s voice as the image of little Sarah, with her bright smile and trusting green eyes, swarms to the front of her mind. She swallows thickly, forcing herself to calm down. It doesn’t really work as well as she hoped it would, but at least she won’t start crying, which is good enough. “I cannot help you. Not right now.”  
  
Her eyes beg him to understand, but she doubts he will.  
  
Elrond never gets emotionally attached to his patients. Tauriel, on the other hand, does it constantly, even though she knows she shouldn’t. There are only two rules that all doctors and therapists should follow to a T – be professional and don’t get attached. She has never had much of a problem with the first one, but the second is a real struggle for her. Every time one of her patients dies, she is mourning alongside their family. Those children trust her, confide in her, share their deepest secrets, nightmares, and dreams with her, and they become her friends. She knows and loves them, and it breaks her heart to see them go. If it’s possible and fits with her schedule, she tries to give herself some time to grieve before taking on another case. Doing so straight away would probably undo her and she simply cannot allow herself to fall apart.  
  
She needs to be the rock for those who need her, needs to remain strong above anything else.  
  
There is no room for mistakes and lapses of judgement in her orderly imperfectly perfect life.  
  
“I know it’s not the best time. For many reasons.” She has a feeling he is talking about Kili and how she had basically lost the only family she has ever known over a stupid argument, and she doesn’t quite know how she feels about it. Is it really still painful? Or is she already too numb with everything that has been happening recently to even notice one additional burden?  
  
She doesn’t comment on his wording. There is no use in dwelling on matters she doesn’t wish to discuss.  
  
“You know I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t serious.” Elrond looks at her in such a way that she feels like an absolute arse for saying ‘no’. Not that it changes her decision at any rate. “He has never been like this, Tauriel. Never. We are worried sick and I thought maybe a session or two with a psychologist would help.”  
  
“But why me?” She asks, slightly exasperated. “There are hundreds of other psychologists in this city. I can even recommend you some good ones if you want. For God’s sake, Elrond, it’s Dale! There’s probably more therapists here on a square meter than trees in Mirkwood!”  
  
“But I trust only you,” he replies simply.  
  
She is stunned speechless.  
  
His words are truthful, but manipulative, and for a moment she balances on the fine line between being flattered by them and angry at Elrond for playing dirty, but finally she decides to go with neither. He is desperate and desperation makes people do far worse things. He is also her friend, one of a few she still has after ending things with Kili.  
  
She wonders how long he will remain her friend if she refuses to help him.  
  
A few months?  
  
A year?  
  
Until his godson dies?  
  
There is an unpleasant lump forming in her throat at the mere thought of losing him. They have known each other for such a long time that her life would feel empty without him in it. Those thoughts are mostly the effect of her paranoia rearing its ugly head from deep within her mind, though people she had known for far longer than Elrond had abandoned her for far less in the past, so her fear is not entirely imaginary.  
  
“I have an empty spot next Monday at ten.”  
  
Elrond’s face brightens significantly when she says it. The glimmer of hope she sees in his eyes makes her smile a little and she realizes that although she is about to dive head first into a right mess it’s kind of worth it.

-o-o-o-

The Greenleafs agree to meet her on Monday.  
  
Over the week leading to the meeting Tauriel tries to put herself into a right mindset before it comes and does a surprisingly marvellous job of chasing away any lingering sorrows. She meditates daily for at least two hours, goes to her Friday yoga class, and relaxes at home with a good novel every evening.  
  
Come Monday she is once again an oasis of calm and ready to work her magic.  
  
Eowyn Rohirrim, who works in the small private practise as a secretary of sorts, welcomes her with a warm smile and a cup of delicious coffee the moment she enters the apartment-turned-office on the tenth floor of the nice landmarked building in Uptown, which she co-owns with a psychiatrist, Dr Arathorn Dunedain.  
  
The man is a legend in his field and she is honoured to work with him. Apart from being a genius, he is also kind and very friendly, which means that sharing work space with him is a pleasure. She couldn’t have asked for a better associate.  
  
“Hello, Tauriel,” Eowyn says as she returns to her place behind the counter and types something into her computer. “Your new patient is not yet here, but should be up any minute now, I suspect. Mr Baggins called fifteen minutes ago to inform me that he will be late for his session at one and that he is terribly sorry. Also, you need to sign some forms for me before I give them to Dr Dunedain. I’ve put them on your desk, along with mail.”  
  
She pauses and bends down. Tauriel hears her say something quietly to someone. Her soft words are followed by a childish giggle that she recognizes all too well.  
  
“Don’t tell me Arathorn brought Aragorn to work. _Again_.” She has talked with him about it countless times, but it seems that he doesn’t really care what she has to say. This is not a place for a child to hang out in.  
  
A six year old boy with a head of unruly dark hair emerges from the space behind Eowyn’s desk. His little hands are fisted in a fluffy elephant plush toy that’s almost as big as his head. There is a smudge of blue ink on his left cheek for some reason and a green marker stuck behind his ear.  
  
“Good morning, Miss Silvan.” He smiles at her widely, looking absolutely adorable and showing off a rather big tooth gap where his upper front teeth should be.  
  
She shakes her head with a sigh as she muses the boy’s hair in an affectionate gesture, all signs of anger melting away from her face. It’s hard to stay even a bit angry at Arathorn when his son is so happy to see her.  
  
“Hello, little man,” she greets him with a small smile of her own. “What were you doing back there?”  
  
“Drawing elephants,” he informs her. “And I’m doing it quietly. Dad said that if I’m quiet, I can stay and you won’t be angry.”  
  
Well, it’s not exactly true, but she is not about to tell him that.  
  
“Spot on, Aragorn. If you are good, I will let you play with Smaug later on, okay?”  
  
Aragorn’s smile widens and he jumps once in excitement before returning to his previous spot as quietly as can be expected from a bubbly and very excited child.  
  
Smaug is a ginger cat who is technically Kili’s cat. Of course Kili didn’t want to take the animal with him after their break up, because that would be too easy, so Tauriel got stuck with him. Since there is a no-animal policy in her temporary flat and she is still looking for something permanent without much success, the cat has been staying in the office and became a bit of a mascot at some point. He sleeps almost all the time, lets strangers pet him without making a fuss, and likes to collect random treasures, which he then hides behind the couch in Tauriel’s office, so he is essentially harmless.  
  
Aragorn took a particular liking to Smaug, since he has always wanted to have a pet, and now Tauriel uses the cat as a bit of a barging chip when she wants the boy to behave.  
  
After asking Eowyn to inform her when the Greenleafs arrive and instructing her to tell Arathorn to come see her when he has a moment so they can once again discuss the policies of their work space in detail, she goes into her office to sort through at least a portion of the papers waiting for her on the desk before her first patient arrives.  
  
When she enters, Smaug stretches on the couch and yawns, but doesn’t otherwise acknowledge her presence and goes back to sleep as if nothing has happened.  
  
She stares at him for a moment before shaking her head at his utter laziness and walking over to her desk, where she works diligently and attentively for the next twenty minutes. When Eowyn calls her through the intercom to announce the arrival of the Greenleafs, Tauriel is almost done with sorting her mail. She tells the woman to get them to fill the papers and then send them in as soon as possible.  
  
The door opens ten minutes later. Tauriel looks up from a rather boring article about modern methods of education, which has been written by one of her colleagues and sent to her via mail, to find three people standing in the doorway. Eowyn excuses herself almost immediately and soon Tauriel is left in the company of an older man and a willowy boy.  
  
“Good morning. My names is Oropher Greenleaf and this is my grandson, Legolas,” the older man says as a way of greeting with a warm smile. He is dressed impeccably in a grey tweed suit with a white shirt and a simple black tie. A long coat in the same colour as his tie is swung over his arm and he is holding a fedora hat that matches his suit in his hand. There is a lot of elegance and hidden strength in the way he moves, which gives Tauriel a feeling that he is not your regular Billy, but someone very important and powerful.  
  
“Good morning, Mr Greenleaf, Legolas,” she responds as she raises from her chair and walks around the desk to shake their hands. “It’s nice to meet you. Please, sit down.”  
  
They both settle on the couch while Tauriel takes her usual spot in the huge leather armchair. Silence falls between them for a moment before she starts to explain everything that will be happening from now on and answers Mr Greenleaf’s questions. All the while she is observing young Legolas from the corner of her eye, taking immediate notice of the fact that the boy looks like he would have liked to be anywhere but here. It’s a common reaction. Most children don’t particularly like the idea of talking to a stranger about their feelings. Truth be told, most people in general don’t find the idea very appealing, at least in the beginning. After a few sessions the tension usually goes away, leaving ample room for an honest conversation and it is then that the true therapy begins. Tauriel has a feeling it will take a while to get Legolas to talk.  
  
After all the matters have been properly addressed and all the questions have been answered, Mr Greenleaf leaves her office to wait outside. Legolas doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. In fact, he actually looks relieved and slumps a bit in his seat, the expression on his face perfectly showcasing just how bored he is.  
  
Dressed in a pair of red Converse sneakers, blue jeans, and a Batman hoodie, he looks like a typical boy his age, but his face and body tell a different story. His cheeks are sunken in, there are purplish shadows under his eyes, his lips are cracked, his skin is unnaturally pale, and his entire frame is too thin. She is also fairly certain that the black beanie on his head is not a simple accessory. There is fatigue hidden behind every breath he takes. He doesn’t look different from other ill children she has seen over the years.  
  
“So, Legolas,” she starts with a friendly smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”  
  
The only response she gets is a raised eyebrow, which is more than she was expecting, if she is completely honest with herself, though it still manages to infuriate her a little. She already knows that this boy will be a piece of work and they have been in each other’s presence for barely twenty minutes, which doesn’t bode well at all.  
  
“I know your godfather,” she explains as she scrabbles _attitude_ and _feign indifference_ onto her notepad. “He asked me to meet with you.”  
  
“I don’t know why,” Legolas says after a moment of silence. “You can’t help me.”  
  
“And why is that?”  
  
“Because you cannot stop me from dying.”  
  
His response is simple and honest. The truth behind his words doesn’t really shake her, but it concerns her greatly that he seems to be ready to give up in the middle of the battle. Children aren’t usually that pessimistic.  
  
“No, I can’t,” she responds truthfully, locking her eyes with his. “I can still be your friend though. Everyone needs a friend now and again, don’t you think?”  
  
“Probably,” he allows. It’s obvious he isn’t exactly excited about the idea of befriending her.  
  
“Do you have some good friends?”  
  
“One.”  
  
“And who is that?”  
  
“Moose.”  
  
She blinks at him in surprise, thinking that he must be joking. It must have been obvious on her face, because Legolas sighs in exasperation and takes out his phone. After a moment of clicking on the screen he shows her a picture of a light brown Great Dane that looks more like a small horse than a dog.  
  
“Moose?”  
  
The boys shrugs.  
  
“Dad thinks it’s funny.”  
  
“Your dad is right,” Tauriel agrees wholeheartedly. “Is it yours or…?”  
  
“Well, it’s more mine than dad’s. ” There is a pause. “I mean, I spend more time with him than dad, so it’s only fair. Besides, Moose listens to me. He never wants to do anything dad tells him to do.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
Legolas’ head bobs up and down, and there is a smile on his face as he does so. As she goes to the shelf to select a game for them to play, he tells her story after story of how Moose and his dad get at each other’s nerves all the time and she snorts as her mind creates the image of a man at the end of his wits who spends his free time arguing with a stubborn dog seemingly for the sake of arguing.  
  
They start playing Monopoly, which turns out to be Legolas’ favourite board game, and the boy doesn’t stop talking until it’s time for him to go.

When he walks out of her office after their hour-long session, he seems a bit brighter. Mr Greenleaf must have noticed it too, because he looks at her with so much gratitude that she feels close to tears. After saying a goodbye and seeing them to the door, she feels emotionally spent, but happy. There is a strange skip to her step as she walks back to her office and she finds herself laughing at the sight of Smaug sniffing the couch in the precise spot where Legolas had sat with suspicion, clearly expecting a dog to pop out of it at any given moment.  
  
It’s the first time she has truly laughed in the past month, she realizes, and it doesn’t feel bad at all.

**Author's Note:**

> For those who are interested, ALL stands for Acute Lymphoblastic Leukaemia.
> 
> What do you think about the story for now? Good? Bad? Meh? Please, let me know! :)


End file.
